


Runaway

by orphan_account



Series: Family: A Different Kind of Team [8]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Lost - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Tony and Steve fighting a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2053104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 year old Peter gets bored of life with the avengers, and goes searching for 'normal kid life'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> It's really late, I can't be bothered to edit. Suck it up.
> 
> Love you all :3
> 
> Enjoy!

“Peter?”  
Steve peered into the dark room, then fumbled for the light switch. He blinked in the brightness, glancing around for his son. There was no sign of him. He threw back the covers of the bed, poked his head into the blanket fort in the corner, into the reading nook, and in the washroom. No where.  
“Petey?” He called, focusing his enhanced hearing for the sound of the boy’s voice.  
Nothing.  
“Jarvis, lock all doors and windows. Contact Tony, send him and the rest of the available team to the living room, floor 11. Tell them the Peter is missing.” He himself hurried towards the elevator just outside the nursery.  
Tony hurried towards him as he exited. “What happened?”  
“Peter’s not in his room, or in the nursery. Jarvis, scan the house and grounds for him.”  
Tony looked panicked, Steve wrapped his arms around him and hugged him close.  
“We’ll find him.” He soothed.  
“Sirs, my scans show that Peter is not in the building or on the grounds.”  
Tony began gasping for air. Steve helped him to the couch, talking to Jarvis. “Contact all staff. Anyone who has seen Peter, or anything indicating kidnapping, get all the information you can from them. Scan for any traces of his spider string.”  
Tony had closed his eyes, taking deep but shaky breaths. Steve sat down next to him, squeezing his own eyes shut and trying to think. Where could he have gone?  
Clint burst out of the main elevator. “You lost Peter?”  
Bruce followed him out, looking like someone desperately trying to keep calm. “Has Jarvis scanned for him?”  
Steve nodded, standing, but keeping his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “We’re doing everything. Clint, can you go take a jet and search the surrounding roads?”  
Clint nodded, already stepping back onto the elevator.  
Steve turned his attention to Bruce. “Are you okay?”  
Bruce nodded. “I should be.”  
“Good. Any ideas?”  
“Do you have a tracking device on Peter?” Bruce asked, taking a seat on the couch.  
“Uh…” Steve paused, trying to remember.  
“I said we should.” Tony muttered, staring at the ground. He turned to glare at Steve. “I knew we needed one! You said no!”  
“So I didn’t want him to be microchipped, like a dog? Shame on me!” Steve snapped, firing up.  
“Hey!” Bruce interrupted. “Was there any sign of a struggle in his room?”  
“It was exactly the way I left it when I tucked him in last night.” Steve recalled.  
“Then he might be running away. Most kids try it at least once, but when they realize they have nowhere to go, they turn back.”  
Tony let out a barely audible groan, sinking his face into a cushion. They turned to him.  
“Most kids don’t have anywhere to go.” He explained, resuming a slumped sitting positon. “Peter has enough pocket cash to get him to Australia.”  
Again, Steve addressed the AI. “Jarvis, I assume you would tell us if any transportation: Cars, planes, even bicycles, had gone missing?”  
“Of course sir. Nothing is missing.”  
“Did Peter leave his room during the night?” Steve asked  
“He went to the kitchen for a glass of water, then returned.”  
“Then how did he leave?”  
“He went to the kitchen for a glass of water, then returned.”  
Tony punched the arm of the sofa. “Peter!”  
Steve turned to him, confused. “What?”  
“He…told Jarvis to say that.” Tony mumbled, then smacked his forehead. “I taught him that. For an emergency.”  
Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist, easily restraining him from hitting himself. “You taught him how to break Jarvis?”  
“It’s very complicated, don’t pretend to understand technology!” Tony struggled in his husbands grip.  
Bruce sighed. “Should we send out more search parties?”  
Tony stopped pulling, Steve released him. He stood, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll go.”  
Steve nodded, watching the suit come together around Tony.  
“What should I do?” Bruce prompted Steve.  
“Uh…” Steve’s brain felt sluggish with worry. “I don’t...”  
“I’ll try to trace Peter’s cellphone, if he has it with him.” Bruce decided, pulling out his StarkPad.  
Steve nodded again, then headed for the elevator. “I’ll take another jet out to look for him.”  
***  
Leah was getting the mail when she saw the young boy walking along the road. He looked about six years old; he was carrying a bag that was far too big for him. And shivering.  
“Excuse me!” She called, trying to get his attention.  
The boy looked up, she hurried towards him.  
“Are you lost?”  
The boy took a step back, looking scared.  
She knelt down in front of him, repeating the question. “Are you lost?”  
He shook his head.  
“What’s your name? Are your mommy and daddy around here?” She peered up and down the empty road, looking for any signs of an adult.  
“Not all families are a mommy and daddy.” The boy corrected.  
She looked back at him, confused. “Uh…I guess so. Do you live with just your mommy? Or just daddy? Or maybe with your grandparents?”  
“I used to live with my daddies.” He explained. “But now I’m going to live by myself.”  
“Daddies?” She glanced automatically up at the Stark-Rogers mansion in the distance, thinking of the famous gay couple and their adopted son. “What are their names?”  
“Dad and Poppa.” The boy shivered. “I’m cold.”  
She nodded, then got to her feet, thinking hard. Whoever the kid was, he shouldn’t be out in the cold. Maybe if she took care of him, she could find out who he belonged to. “Would you like some hot chocolate? Or maybe tea?”  
He looked past her, at her house, then back at her. “Hot coco, please.”  
She was unsure whether or not to take his hand, in the end deciding just to let him follow her. They headed for the house. “Do your daddies have names other than Dad and Poppa? Names that their friends call them?”  
He nodded, shivering.  
She opened the door and let him into the house. It was small, the best that her and her fiancée could afford. There was a kitchen, living room, washroom, and bedroom.  
“And those names are…?” She prompted, taking his bag and hanging it on the back of a chair for him.  
“My Poppa is Steve, and Dad is Tony.”  
She did her best to cover her gasp, trying to remain calm. “Tony Stark? Steve Rogers?”  
“Yeah.” He didn’t seem to understand her surprise.  
“So you must be Peter Stark-Rogers.” She couldn’t think; she was too confused to panic. Five minutes ago, she had just been a normal person, getting the mail. Now she had the child of two billionaire super heroes in her kitchen.  
“Yep.” He kicked his feet under the table. “Can I have hot coco now?”  
She shook her herself, trying to clear her head. What was she supposed to do? “First I need to call…the police? Stark industries?”  
“Don’t call my dad’s!” The boy squeaked. “I’m running away and I’m going to live on my own!”  
“I have to call them! I could get arrested for keeping you, or worse…” She trailed off, not entirely sure what would happen.  
He began to cry. “Please don’t call them! Please!”  
She ran a hand through her short hair, trying to calm down. “I…ok. I won’t call them.”  
He sniffled, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. “Promise?”  
“Uh, yeah. Promise.” She turned to the sink and began to fill a mug with water. “You said hot coco, right?”  
“Yep.” He replied, now smiling. She wondered if the tears had been an act.  
“So,” She began, scooping chocolate mix into the water. “Why are you running away?”  
He shrugged. “I got bored.”  
It baffled her that anyone would want to run away from that kind of life. “Bored of having superhero dads and living in luxury?”  
“I guess.” He mumbled. “I wish I could be a normal kid sometimes.”  
She took the drink out of the microwave and stirred it, then set it in front of him and joined him at the table. “Careful, it’s hot. I guess you don’t get chances to do normal kid stuff?”  
He wrapped his cold hands around the mug, shrugging. “I don’t even know what normal kid stuff is.”  
“Like…” She thought for a second, still slightly in awe of the young boy. “Picnics, beaches, Frisbee and treehouses. That kind of stuff.”  
“We go on picnics.” He took a sip, then continued. She smiled at the brown hot coco mustache across his lip. “Poppa loves picnics. And beaches. And he’s REALLY good with Frisbees.”  
“I guess he would be.” Captain America, good with Frisbees. What a surprise, she thought sarcastically to herself. “What do you and Mr. Stark…I mean, your Dad…do together?”  
“He likes Lego, and mechano and stuff like that.” Peter blew on his drink and took another gulp.  
Not surprising, from what she knew from newspapers and magazines. “Do they take you out to do superhero stuff?”  
“It’s too dangerous.” He sighed, shrugging. “Not till I’m fifteen.”  
“I guess even billionaire families have rules.” She thought out loud. She didn’t imagine life in the Stark-Rogers mansion much, but if she did, she had pictured battles every day, expensive everything, and lots of apple pie. Peter looked like any normal kid.  
“TONS of rules.” Peter assured her. “I hafta go to sleep at 8:30 every night, and always brush my teeth, and put my own dishes in the dishwasher, and clean up my toys. I like it when Uncle Clint babysits, ‘cause he always forgets the ‘no violent movies’ rule.”  
The child of two avengers, not allowed watching violent movies? She laughed to herself. “Uncle Clint? As in Hawkeye?”  
“Yeah.” Peter squirmed in his seat, setting down his mug.  
She noted the signs. “Do you need to use the washroom?” She asked, blushing as she said it. Again, the last thing she would have imagined herself doing today; asking the child of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers if he needed to ‘potty’.  
He nodded. She stood, and led him through the bedroom to the bathroom. “Do you…uh…need help?”  
“I’m not THAT little.” He reminded her, slipping into the room and shutting the door. The moment it was closed, she hurried back into the kitchen and picked up her phone. Again, the question came up: Who to call?  
A thought struck her; she reached for his bag hanging on the back of the chair. Inside, she quickly located the phone, and turned it on. There were about 20 texts from ‘Uncle Bruce’. It took her a moment to realize that must be Bruce Banner, The Hulk.  
It was, of course, a StarkPhone, so it took her a moment to figure out how to get to the password stage. When she got it, she stopped, stumped. What would the password be? The date of some important war? The last four digits in his phone number? Some kind of technological reference?  
Panicking, and aware she was running out of time before the boy got out of the washroom, she typed in the first thing that came to mind: 1234. Miraculously, it worked. She quickly pulled up the contacts, and clicked on ‘Uncle Bruce’. He seemed like the one who was trying to contact Peter.  
The phone dialed, then she heard a voice on the other end, sounding frantic. “Peter?”  
She blanked out, not sure how to respond. The panic on the other end grew. “Petey? Is that you?”  
“Uh…no…” She took a breath, trying to remain calm. “It’s me. I mean, it’s Leah. Wait, sorry, you don’t know who I am. I mean…I found Peter. He’s okay.”  
There was a pause while the person, presumably Bruce, tried to figure out what she said. “You have Peter?”  
“Yeah. I found him walking along the road by my house. He’s okay.” She knew she was repeating herself.  
“Can you tell me the location of the house?” Bruce asked.  
She reeled off the address, watching the bedroom door for Peter.  
“Great. Can I speak to Peter?”  
“Actually, he’s in the washroom right now. He doesn’t know I’m calling. I just wanted you all to know that he’s safe, and-.”  
She broke off, hearing what sounded like a heavy frying pan banging on her door. She almost dropped the phone with surprise, and ran to answer it.  
She almost fainted when she opened it, to see the huge gold and red suit standing on her porch. It was much taller than she would have guessed from the news footage. She took several startled steps backwards.  
The golden mask slid away, revealing a face she had assumed she would only ever see on TV and in newspapers.  
“Are you the one who found my son?” Tony Stark asked.  
It took her a moment to find her tongue, all too aware of his eyes scanning her and the room. “Yes?” She peeped, finally.  
He smiled, seemingly to calm her. It worked; you could stop wars with that face. “Can I see him?”  
“He’s in the washroom.” She felt herself blush, not entirely sure why. “He doesn’t really want to see you. I think he’s trying to run away.”  
He nodded, and the suit began to disassemble around him. He was shorter without it, almost her height. He was also wearing, not a fancy business suit, but a sleeveless black tank top and sweat pants. His pajamas? She stifled a nervous giggle.  
“I can trust you not to attack me, right?” He asked, picking up the golden suit-case like container that the suit had folded into.  
She wasn’t entirely sure if he was joking. “Uh…yes? Would you like to come in, Mr. Stark?”  
He nodded, walking past her and seated himself in the chair that Peter had vacated. “Thanks. You can call me Tony, and you are…?”  
“Leah.” She shut the door, wincing at the loud sound it made in the awkward silence. “Leah Tobin.”  
“Leah. Nice to meet you.”  
It was lucky that Peter came in at this moment, because it saved her the trouble of having to make small talk with the billionaire + genius + superhero who was sitting calmly in her house.  
“Sorry I took so long.” The boy apologized as he entered the room. “I couldn’t figure the taps out-,” He stopped in his tracks at the sight of his father. Tony scooped him up and hugged him tight.  
Leah’s feeble ‘Yeah, they can be a bit tricky’, was drowned out by another loud knock on the door. She hurried to answer it, wondering if the old wood could survive the day.  
For a second time in the last 15 minutes, she almost collapsed. Not that she was usually a faint-all-over-the-place damsel in distress type, but when you see Captain America on your door step, it’s hard not to react that way.  
He was tall without the suit, but still had a threatening appearance. She stumbled back again.  
“Sorry to bother you, miss…” He trailed off, looking behind her. “Peter!”  
She stepped out of the way as he hurried through the door, and towards his husband and son, and wrapped them both in an embrace. Leah smiled, staring at her toes.  
“We can’t thank you enough.” It was the voice of the captain, she looked up.  
“It’s no problem. Just a bit surprising.” She laughed awkwardly, then smiled at Peter. “Sorry I ratted you out. I knew your parents would be worried.”  
Peter’s head was rested on Tony’s chest, over the glowing spot the marked the what-cha-ma-call-it that powered the IronMan suit. He smiled back at her. “S’okay.”  
They all stood there awkwardly, then Captain America stepped forward. “We’ve probably caused you a lot of trouble. We can make it up to you-,”  
She raised her hands, refusing the reward before she had a chance to ponder it. “I’m just glad I could help your family.”  
He smiled and drew back, clearly not wanting to push. Tony passed Peter to him, then began packing up Peter’s backpack, which mostly just included shoving the phone back in. Leah did her best not to look awkward, standing by the door. Tony slung the bag over his shoulder and picked up the suit suit-case.  
“Thanks again.” The captain said, seeming just as uneasy as she was at the moment.  
Tony gave her a grin, and they began to head out the door.  
“Wait! Uh, sorry to bother you, but could I…uh…get your autographs? My fiancée, he would hate to find out that I met you and didn’t even document it.”  
The couple exchanged amused glances, then Tony spoke, grinning. “What if you and your fiancée came to the tower and had dinner with us one night? Nothing fancy, just a thank you kind of thing. We could invite the rest of the team, if you’d like.”  
Leah nodded vigorously, too happy to speak. She managed to squeak a ‘thank you!’ before they were out the door.


End file.
